


Lost of Light

by mnd1305



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Character Death, Curses, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, F/M, Hermione Granger has secrets, Redemption, Rituals, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, Violence, War Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnd1305/pseuds/mnd1305
Summary: He couldn't understand why, or how. He had many unanswered questions and Hermione Granger was one of them.[Momentary hiatus]
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 5





	Lost of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a repost, I had to make some edits. This fic will be updated randomly, Bedevilled will take priority for the time being.
> 
> Warnings: This fanfic will be extremely dark, please do not read this if you are not comfortable. They are not minors. I am not trying to romanticize these themes in any way possible.

His walls were up. They were strong and solid. As if a metal barrier surrounded his brain, denying access to anyone who dared tried to enter.

His face was calm. Unemotional. He didn’t dare show any kind of change or movement of his facial expressions. He did not move so much as the curl of his lip. He didn’t dare try.

His eyes were hollow vases. Empty pools of gray. Cold gazes were the giving. Hints of darkness lingered in his irises. Only spotted if you stare long enough.

His body stiff and relaxed— only known to himself.

With silent eyes, they raked over the room. He watched the bodies in the chairs switch emotions from one second to the other. Going from laughter to horrified. From prideful to shy. Hysteria to concentration.

He sat, his expression still and unmoving. Everything about him screamed passive, from the outside— but on the inside… His body was screaming for help, for someone to get him the fuck out of here. To get him away from these murderers, psychopaths, sociopaths. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about it. He let himself blow up and burst into flames on the inside.

The room felt stained by dark magic. He could feel it, pulsating around him. Cursing him with its whispers. It floated from the tiled ground to the large chandelier— whisking into the air he breathed and penetrating his soul. Just the slight lick of it in the air could leave him bruised with a darkness that swelled inside him.

The space smelt like blood and burns. The marks burned by the Dark Lord’s commands. He could feel it. He could smell it.

Blood marked the surface in front of him. The table, the walls, the floor, the mantle, the chairs… Not seen by the blind eye— tiny specks could be spotted in every corner. Small pieces of people who had died, still lingered around the room.

Voldemort spoke to the group. He spoke of upcoming missions and plans to be completed for their victory. Plans that made his skin crawl and his bones shatter. Disturbing things. Horrible things. As he spoke, he seemed happy ― joyful even, of his ideas.

Draco sat. Listening and watching the Death Eaters around him as they plotted their future victories.

Many of them, he recognized. The closer you were to the Dark Lord ― the more important you were. The table was an array of monsters in disguise. The head was filled by their king. His pet slithered around the surface. Their lords, close to the king. The subordinates were at the end or on missions filling the king's tasks. Putting their lives in his hands and handing their hearts on a silver platter.

The doors opened with a creak caused by old hinges. All exchanges ceased.

A slim figure stood in the doorway. A dark black cloak donned its figure. The hood placed on its head ― concealing the face behind it.

As the figure stood, dark magic sifted from the figure, around the room. It smelt of it ― reeked of it.

“Excuse my tardiness, My Lord. I was delayed,” a silky voice spoke from the cover of the cloak.

Voldemort’s grin expanded as if he had been told he won the war.

“Ah ― Stygian. I was waiting for your arrival,” The Dark Lord hissed. “Take your seat.”

His pale hand gestured to the chair directly across the table. It was empty ― it always had been. No one had enough power and acceptance to sit at the head of the table, across the monster.

The dark figure approached with careful footsteps, a gloved hand pulled out the chair and it squeaked in the rather silent room.

“Oh…” the voice chuckled darkly. “Rookwood is dead. He was a threat to the task and myself ― I killed him. I hope it's not too much of a burden, My Lord.”

He seemed to consider the fact for a moment, lifting an eyebrow. “I trust your judgement Stygian.”

There was a pause in the room. Everyone seemed to be listening, they seemed curious about the figure hidden behind the hood.

“Stygian…”

“Yes, My Lord?”

“Would you mind removing your cloak,” it was not a question but a demand.

The individual did not answer, simply unclasped the cloak letting it open to reveal more dark-coloured Death Eater robes. Draco watched with careful eyes, letting his Occlumency walls dip the slightest touch… To show his curiousness. The slightest amount of emotion to appear.

The figure brought a hand and pulled the hood down.

As the face was revealed from the darkness ― bit by bit.

He froze.

His body going stiff. Every joint locked, his blood stopped pumping through his veins, his heart stopped beating.

The hood had been hiding a person. A person from his past. A person he never believed he would ever see again, much less here ― in his house.

He never expected Hermione Granger to be sitting at his dining room table, conveying her amount of power. 

It radiated off her.

He must be dreaming, he thought. There was no way that she ― The Golden Girl. Potter’s Mudblood. The light in all evil to be attending a meeting. A Death Eater meeting, wearing Death Eater robes. Much less to be sitting at the head of the table.

He was not dreaming, he almost wished he was. The events happening in front of him were real. 

Somehow she was not some ghost haunting his nightmares. She was real and only sitting ten feet away from him.

He couldn't understand why, or how. He had many unanswered questions and Hermione Granger was one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/mnd1305) for more updates. 
> 
> This is the [Trailer](https://youtu.be/6-Znmcay8ng)


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